


till the stars of London wane

by vivacephoenix



Category: Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M, Gen, Ghosts, Loss, Love beyond the grave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 13:09:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3570791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivacephoenix/pseuds/vivacephoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will didn't choose to become a ghost. The choices of his great-great grandson bring him back one night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	till the stars of London wane

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashesandhoney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashesandhoney/gifts).



> Another piece coming over from tumblr. The prompt for this was Will/Tessa "things you said I wasn’t meant to hear”. It ended up as a kind of prologue to "occupants of earlier dates".

Will couldn’t secretly watch all of the Circle of Raziel’s meeting. He had a reason to be back on Earth and he couldn’t confront that boy until after it was over, but it was too infuriating to sit and wait. During his many decades in politics, there had been many horrible gatherings. But Will had always faced his opponents. To be only a solitary incorporeal spirit and listen to them plan enraged him. They so lightly tossed out names of cities where they had gone with death and pain and talked about the next Downworlders who could be their prey.

The boy would go back to the manor when the meeting ended. Celine Herondale was there now, unaware of the past of her home. For some reason, his fool of a descendant had given the copy of  _Tale of Two Cities_  to the Morgenstern in charge of his group and other pieces of the years Will had lived were locked in the attic. But if he bided his time in the almost-empty house, he would think on Evelyn and Jonathan sliding down the stair-rail into retried Consul Branwell, Owen learning to walk in the nursery, and Lucie sitting with him in the garden to write while Tessa, James, and Anna planted tulips. No matter who was there, Herondale Manor had once been full of love, not hatred.

 _I am the ghost of Shadwell Stair. I am the shadow that walks there,_  Will thought to himself. He had already gone to London to find a tangible connection to hold him here tonight. The old silver box with carved birds would work for his idea and there also was the portrait in the attic. But whether or not to use that, Will hadn’t decided on yet. Only if he could get through to Stephen.

He would have to turn his old Institute face on for this conversation and before that, he needed to see one of the people who held his ghost here. Will closed his eyes and pictured grey eyes and golden runes. He opened them and was in Tessa’s kitchen in Los Angeles. She wasn’t there.

It was silent, but not like the secretive meeting at the Morgensterns’ or the aching quiet of the Herondale home. With the time difference between Idris and California, the sun was still high above and shone through the skylight. The pile of magical spell books on the table showed that it was a warlock’s house. Will anxiously thought of the Circle’s unrepentant viciousness that he had just listened to for an hour. She was in so much danger from them.

The door opened and Will got up to meet her. Tessa’s cheeks were pink from climbing the long hill. She looked surprised to see him, melancholy, and happy. “ _Hiraeth_ ,” he said in agreement, though she could only read his lips and not hear the word in Welsh.

"Will! Why are you holding Owen’s box, love?" She set down her garment bag and purse over the kitchen chair. "Did you steal that from the Institute?" He gave a tiny grin and nodded, but his eyes stayed serious. A hundred years before today, she could have come inside to greet him and he would have had hands that could do more than hold cold metal. The children would be babes and their life starting. They did not know what monsters their posterity could become.

"I have a plan," he told her slowly. He tried to enunciate so that she could attempt to make out the words. "I want to stop him before he causes more destruction." They had had so much practice carefully communicating with expressions and whispers throughout the years that she likely understood most of it.

Tessa stepped around the table and put her hand on Will’s cheek. “Did you want me to come with you? I heard he’s living in the manor.” Her fingers were warm and solid while he was only a silhouette. He shook his head in alarm and pointed to one of the pictures framed on the wall. It showed Magnus and Tessa at her friend Elena’s bicentennial a few years before. Will knew what the Circle had done to Magnus in New York and felt the fury again. Perhaps he could make Stephen William (oh, did that hurt) Herondale listen to a lecture from a ghost, but not a ghost and a Downworlder.

"No, no no. But I wanted to see you before I had to talk to him." He included hand gestures as well words in case his words came too quickly. He shifted the silver box to one arm and put his hand on top of hers. "You are the first dream, the only dream—"

"—I was ever unable to stop myself from dreaming." Tessa’s eyes were welling up and Will’s were as well even without a physical face. He didn’t know if she could feel the tears. "It is horribly unfair that he gets to hear your voice and I can’t. I have to use my memories."

"I’d rather stand here all night and talk to you or Jem," he responded with a smile. "But I don’t like Los Angeles. Heat in autumn and no winter unnerves me. That’s as if you wore shoes on your hands." He pointed to the shimmering ocean below and gave her a look of mock-concern.

"It’s not London," she acknowledged. She moved closer. "Go, Will. It’s almost ten o’clock in Alicante. Use the words we always did." There was the faith they always had in each other and in Jem. Tessa didn’t know what Will’s plan exactly entailed, but she believed in it. Owen’s box was pressed between them and he pushed his forehead against hers. Tessa dropped her house keys to the floor and tried to pull his face the rest of the way down into a kiss. She would have to use her memories to properly feel it, but it was a connection. " _Where Thou art — that — is Home—_ " she whispered.

“ _So I may Come—/Where Thou dost_ " He closed his eyes and pictured the manor, ready to travel, but never ready to leave this. 

“ _—is Delight_ " she finished.

Will dematerialized away from Tessa and came back together inside the library at the manor. Seeing her again made the happy memories closer, even in the stillness. They had spent thousands of days and nights here both when they ran the Institute and after they retired. Will walked over history section and looked for his own name. He picked up one of his early books and sat down at his old desk to wait for Stephen.


End file.
